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Sorehl

Turnaround

“You’re not even going to stay?” Commander Blair exclaimed onscreen, exaggerating his surprise. “But I made a Bundt cake!”

 

Sorehl passed over the comment as yet another example of his executive officer’s “overabundance of personality” – something command school had failed to drum out of him. “The admiral has ordered a six-hour turnaround for Reliant, in the event we need to intercept Excalibur.”

 

The image of Blair folded his arms. “We can be ready for that,” he promised.

 

“What is the status of our respective fleets?” Sorehl asked. “Do we have anything in the general vicinity?”

 

Blair frowned a little, looking offscreen. “Sprint,” he called out, “what’ve we got near Excalibur’s last known position?” There was the slightest of pauses while a tactical display went up behind him.

 

Sorehl keyed a button on his armrest, changing to share the overlay of their assets scattered in this part of the quadrant.

 

“The Romulans aren’t broadcasting their transponders in real-time, but they’ve got a D’Rrent-class destroyer within thirty light-years,” Blair reported, “and the IKS DuQwi’jej’ is shadowing an Al-Ucard ship two systems away.”

 

Sorehl leaned back in the center chair, considering. “See if you can raise either ship,” he advised. “If they respond and can break off their missions, request they reroute. In any event, Reliant will take on supplies at Camelot and be underway.”

 

“Will do,” Blair nodded, “and I’ll have some of the cake wrapped up.”

 

Sorehl blinked. “Reliant out.”

 

From his position at helm, Lieutenant Gabriel “Buzz” Zorn swiveled around. “We’ll enter the Avalon system,” he reported, “in 48 minutes at present speed.” Although Zorn looked weakened from his encounter with an Eritan weapon, he’d been cleared for duty by Dr. Kassem. “It’ll be good to be home,” he added, “even for a little while.”

 

Sorehl mused briefly, wondering if it was the structure, the culture, or the people that made the lieutenant consider Camelot ‘home’.

 

Another voice from aft offered its own perspective. “Well, I, for one, intend to make it a somewhat longer stay,” Semil announced.

 

The captain turned a wary eye toward the Hundred’s agent, constraining himself from wincing.

 

“No offense intended,” the Vorta added soothingly, “but the station offers, shall we say, less restrictive confines for conducting business.” He smiled thinly. “I do hope your people have finished our new diplomatic suites on the C-Ring.” With Semil’s surprise announcement that he served the Hundred, not the Founders, it had been necessary to deny him access to the Dominion Wing. Establishing an independent section of the station for the Hundred had been a necessary concession. “As a token of our new partnership, I hope you’ll attend our formal dedication.”

 

Sorehl looked away. “It is unlikely,” he admitted. “I must attend to matters at the colony on Avalon.”

 

Semil tilted his head, as if acknowledging an already known fact. “Well, it’s a shorter trip now,” he noted. As part of defensive preparations, Camelot had been moved from its former position at the LeGrange point between Avalon and Tintagel to a geo-stationary orbit at the same longitude as the colony; travel time had been reduced from a fifteen-minute shuttle trip to a mere transport beam away. “Perhaps you can be back in time to confer with us before your departure,” the Vorta prompted.

 

“Perhaps,” Sorehl replied, non-committally. He intended to verify the colony’s safety firsthand. Still, he realized, if a visit to their embassy would encourage the Vorta and the shapeshifter to remain at Camelot, it would be time well spent. Allies or not, the next mission would go smoother with fewer security and diplomatic concerns. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt.

 

Even a Vulcan had to suffer indignities now and then.

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